


missed

by annejumps



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Age Difference, F/M, Telepathy, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 14:29:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9661349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annejumps/pseuds/annejumps
Summary: Charles is so caught up it feels like a literal blow to the head when he realizes. This is Jean. Jean and... Erik.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pearl_o](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearl_o/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [pearl_o](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearl_o/pseuds/pearl_o) in the [xmenrarepairs17](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/xmenrarepairs17) collection. 



> **Prompt:**  
>  Jean and Erik start a sexual relationship. Charles doesn't react well when he finds out, but doesn't admit to himself how much of that is jealousy.  
> (Jean over 18, please.)

Charles doesn’t spy on people as a rule, or eavesdrop on purpose, especially not at his school. Well, he does take precautions—he listens, just to get a feel of things, not unlike a weather report. That’s what he’s was doing late one night in bed when he feels a sudden surge of lust, coming from someone else in the vicinity—a woman in the throes of a very powerful orgasm, a sudden flare-up that makes itself known to his telepathy from the sheer intensity of it. 

Even though this could very well be someone in the mansion, he makes the decision to let himself listen just a bit more closely, just a bit longer, and to dip ever so briefly into her partner’s mind, to feel things as he feels them—to feel her smooth, hot skin against his, slick with sweat; to smell her, taste her on his tongue; hear her low panting cries in his ear, her cunt tight and hot and slick around his cock as she moves under him, thrusting back up toward him, wanting him deeper, harder, faster, _now_ —Charles is so caught up it feels like a literal blow to the head when he realizes.

This is Jean. 

Jean and... Erik. 

He reels, pulling himself out so rapidly that he feels sick.

Jean. 

Erik.

Together.

Charles knows there’s been some sort of low-level attraction between Erik and Jean, has been in the years since they’d rebuilt the mansion. He’d written it off as a teenager’s crush for most of that time. Erik—well, Erik appreciates a fine form, that’s all, and he was perfectly well aware that Jean was off limits as a student far younger than he was.

Jean is twenty-five now, however, and perfectly free to do as she likes.

Had she noticed Charles there? Had she felt him leave their heads? He has to check—that’s only right.

She did not—that was how caught up she was, running her nails down Erik’s long back, legs wrapped tightly around him. 

Charles listens again, seemingly unable to stop himself. 

Erik might be in his late fifties but he’s fucking her—Jean, Charles reminds himself with disbelief—with the energy of a much younger man, the man he’d been decades ago with Charles. The man Charles thought he’d have plenty of time with, the man he’d suspected would break his heart but perhaps not so quickly as he did. The man he’d never even gotten to kiss.

She comes again, shuddering hard, and Charles feels it too, closes his eyes tightly as her pleasure floods his mind as she tightens around him—he’s huge inside of her, and after many times now she still loves the feel of it, how it makes her just uncomfortable enough—and then Erik’s coming and she’s swept away on that, and so is Charles—and Jean almost loses control, but manages to rein herself in and Charles swells with pride for her, his lovely brilliant girl. 

But this is wrong, wrong, wrong, and he finally pulls his mind completely free of Jean’s, and Erik’s, and lies there in the dark, alone in a mansion full of people, blocking off their thoughts.

It’s been years since Charles has seen Gaby, and literal decades since he and Erik seemed to be on the cusp of a physical relationship, and Charles has never laid a hand on Jean despite everything they’ve been through together. His days lately are spent teaching, grading, reading, talking. He goes to bed alone every night. Very dreary for someone Raven used to make fun of for flirting with everyone he saw in Oxford.

He keeps thinking of them—Erik and Jean. He replays the images over and over in his mind—he could make himself sleep, erase the memories entirely, but he doesn’t. He wants the memories, he almost clings to them. Erik, naked, lean and gorgeous. He can feel the warmth of his skin—through Jean’s mind. What he never got to touch, after all, even though he’d been confident he would, that Erik would eventually be his. 

Jean—he finally lets himself admit it. She’s gorgeous, and stunningly powerful. He wants to see her in his bed, so lovely and intense and fiery, but that’s wholly inappropriate—and it’s even less possible than getting Erik in his bed, which he knows could still happen. It’s unlikely, but it could. It seems, however, that Erik has decided otherwise. 

Of course Erik and Jean are together. Of course neither of them are actually interested in him. Of course they don’t want him complicating their lives. And so he’s not going to say a word. They know where to find him, and they didn’t choose him.

\-------

Erik’s panting hard into the sticky side of Jean’s neck, shuddering as if he’ll never stop, and through his mind flash brief sensations, images: Raven; Magda, his wife who’d been killed; past nights with Jean, Erik mouthing and touching her perfect breasts, spreading her thighs to lick her there; a flickering, brief, but intense image of Charles, looking as he did in 1962, fondness and secrets and wants in his eyes as he looked at Erik, the memory faded from use. It’s that, apparently, that draws a sigh from Erik as he collapses on Jean, who wraps her arms around him, stroking her trembling fingers through his sweat-damp hair. She kisses his jaw.

“Again?” she asks, low, voice hoarse.

“Yes, again,” Erik says into her neck, voice muffled. “I’m sorry, I can’t control that very well anymore.”

“Maybe you want me to know,” she says. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell him?”

Erik shakes his head. “It’s too late for us. Too much has happened. He wouldn’t….” Erik clears his throat, taking a moment, and when he speaks his voice is rough. “He wouldn’t accept that from me. I’ve done too much to him.”

“He would,” Jean says, and Erik is quiet. Erik will hurt Charles again and again. He’s better off—they’re all better off—if he keeps himself apart from Charles. Apart from what he wants most.

Jean bites gently at his ear, and he twitches inside her, with a soft grunt of surprise.

“Trust me. You should tell him,” she says, and he draws out slowly, and kisses her forehead. 

“I might,” he says, and sighs. “I might.”


End file.
